“Why, yes,” replied my godfather, “you are idiotic with your romantic ideas. Marriage is a business affair, and must be considered as such. Your future father and mother-in-law will have to die, just as we shall, and it is by no means disagreeable to know that they will leave two million francs to their son, and consequently to you, if you marry him.”
“I shall not marry him, though.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not love him.”
“But you never love your husband before—” replied my practical adviser. “You can love him after.”
“After what?”
“Ask your mother. But listen to me now, for it is not a question of that. You must marry. Your mother has a small income which your father left her, but this income comes from the profits of the manufactory which belongs to your grandmother, and she cannot bear your mother, who will therefore lose that income, and then have nothing and three children on her hands. It is that accursed lawyer who is arranging all this. The whys and wherefores would take too long to explain. Your father managed his business affairs very badly. You must marry, therefore, if not for your own sake, for the sake of your mother and sisters. You can then give your mother the hundred thousand francs your father left you, which no one else can touch. M. B—— will allow you three hundred thousand francs. I have arranged everything, so that you can give this to your mother if you like, and with four hundred thousand francs she will be able to live very well.”
I cried and sobbed, and asked to have time to think it over. I found my mother in the dining-room.
“Has your godfather told you?” she asked gently, in rather a timid way.
“Yes, mother; yes, he has told me. Let me think it over, will you?” I said, sobbing, as I kissed her neck lingeringly.